


Strange Bedfellows

by hydrangeamaiden



Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: Eventual Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Other, Porn With Plot, Roommates, Sharing a Bed, Size Difference, Strangers to Lovers, Trauma, Tsunderes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:34:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26341963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hydrangeamaiden/pseuds/hydrangeamaiden
Summary: The Lost Kin unexpectedly finds their place in the world when rescued by a strange, surly bug.
Relationships: Broken Vessel | Lost Kin/Nailmaster Oro
Comments: 18
Kudos: 66





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write about the Lost Kin x Oro, which is a ship I like a lot, so I'm writing for it now. There will be smut in the next two chapters, hence the rating and tags. I'll probably be finished with the next chapter of Purity is Fake today, but most likely tomorrow.

Once the Vessel’s shell was repaired, it was safe for them to travel once more. Though the worst of their physical wounds were healed, their heart is still shriveled with fear. The Mask Maker was very reassuring, but the Vessel can easily imagine themselves cracking their head open all over again. It’ll take just one bad fall or a strong blow to the head.

This anxiety slows them down. Deepnest, even without Her influence, is a dangerous place. Bodies of less fortunate travelers pave their way out. Others have been taken over by parasitic bugs, so fast and nimble that the Vessel just barely manages to get away. They claw and scrape their way to the tram station, and are provided respite by the long, empty tunnel.

Past the Ancient Basin, the world is cold and covered in ash. The Vessel hugs their cloak around themselves and travels further east. They keep their eyes peeled for little nooks and crannies, places untouched by feral bugs and the hissing pools of acid. The creatures here are almost as ferocious as the ones in Deepnest. Aspids with swollen bellies still tinted by Her chase them all over, angrily spitting acid. The flightless bugs aren’t much better: they hop about and crash into the Vessel without mercy, leaving them bruised and sore.

The Vessel makes it to an open, empty area. It is not ideal; they would prefer somewhere closed off and with plenty of nooks to hide in. They press forward with a soundless sigh, and hardly take two steps forward before something falls atop them. It happens suddenly, before they can properly panic. All they see are several pairs of huge legs and a sac full of fluid, and then they’re slammed face-first into the ground.

And again. And again. They go flying and smack into the stone wall, streaking Void when they slide down. The next impact doesn’t come, but the ground is still shaking and bits of rock are coming loose from the ceiling. If they were to die here, unknown and alone, they would not be surprised at all. The predator that launched itself at them probably didn’t even see them as good enough prey. Even so, the end will come soon enough. The Vessel’s head is throbbing, and Void is leaking out of their eye sockets. Maybe this time they’ll just _stay_ in the Abyss. They close their eyes and wait.

They will not see the Abyss for quite some time, however, because death never comes. The thudding noises end with a screech, and one final _thump_ against the cavern floor. There are heavy footsteps coming their way. Who…? The Vessel opens their eyes and sees a huge bug wearing a huge, fur-lined cloak, and carrying a huge nail. Big, big, big. The Vessel puts their hands over their head and cowers.

“You should know better than to come here so ill-equipped,” the bug says to them. The way they curl in on themselves would make a pill bug jealous. “Certainly you haven’t come to learn the Nail Art. By the looks of you, you probably don’t know how to hold your own nail.”

He reaches out to touch the Vessel, and learns the hard way that they _do_ know how to wield a weapon. The Vessel, out of reflex, lunges forward and slashes a thin blue line into his hand. It doesn’t matter that he just saved their life—the feral instincts they had succumbed to under Her are hard to shake. In Her Hallownest, _touch_ means _danger_. Burning, searing, blinding pain. The bug catches their arm and squeezes, forcing them to drop their nail. They resort to scratching at his wrist ineffectively, while at the same time trying to pull themselves away.

“That’s enough,” the bug scolds. “You can’t hurt me with your pitiful excuse for a weapon, much less your own claws. But...”

He closes his hands around the Vessel’s waist and holds them up. “...Now that I get a good look at you, you remind me of someone. You both have the same face. _Hold still_.”

The Vessel, of course, is losing their mind. They open their mouth and scream: a shrill, squeaky sound that makes their throat burn as much as the rest of their body. It’s too hot, far too hot. It _hurts_. It hurts the more they kick their legs and beat their fists against the bug’s armored chest, but they still keep doing it because they’ll not get free otherwise. Other bugs are _dangerous_ , even ones who can communicate.

The bug heaves a beleaguered sigh, and simply waits for the Vessel to tire themselves out. What with their injuries, this doesn’t take long. They put up a good fight, but soon they understand that they’re not getting out of this. Their vision becomes all starry, and with it comes a high-pitched, tinny sound.

Their head lolls backwards, landing in the bug’s palm before they can hurt their neck. And then the world goes out like a light.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two bugs, each desperately lonely and horny. A match made in heaven u_u This ended up taking longer than I had expected, but I wanted it to be just right!

The Vessel awakens in an unfamiliar room. Though stiff and aching, they no longer burn. They are comfortably warm, in fact, swaddled like a grub in a thick blanket and laid atop a pillow larger than themselves. The first thing they do is wiggle until their bindings are not so tight, and then they feel around for their weapon. For the first time in memory, it is away from their person: leaning adjacent to them, half-hidden behind one of the many thick curtains lining the cold-looking walls.

It is indeed a cold room. The furniture is metal and stone, with sharp bottles and ornaments on the shelves. The sun coming in from the skylight is weak and winter-like. The only pretty thing in the room is a white flower kept in a comically large vase. And, sitting next to it, is the bug who had picked them up earlier.

The Vessel looks down at themselves. Their cloak is gone, replaced by bandages for wounds aggravating and minor alike. They feel their head. Tightly wound with bandages and a little wet around the forehead. Their bad eye has also been covered with an adhesive patch that feels sticky to touch. The blow to the head, they surmise, must have cause it to start leaking again.

“Ah. You’re awake.” The bug, who had so far been motionless, looks over to them. Startled, the Vessel leaps out of bed and hides behind the curtains.

“Was dressing your wounds not enough to convince you that I mean no harm?” the bug groans. “They need changed, anyhow. Come here.”

The Vessel approaches, self-conscious of their unconcealed limp and lolling head. It is a relief on their legs when the bug gestures for them to sit before them, whereupon he brings forth a box of medical supplies.

“You may stay here and rest until you’ve recovered your strength, but no longer than that,” he tells them. He peels the bandage off their eye, and a string of Void comes with it. He grimaces, and reaches for a cloth. “I am the Nailmaster Oro, sworn to teach my art to those who seek me. Despite your resemblance to my most recent pupil, you are clearly no warrior. Therefore my talents would be wasted on you.”

The Vessel is no stranger to rudeness. _She_ had been a frequent presence in their mind, with Her endlessly flowing rage. Oro’s offhanded comments about their uselessness remind them a lot of that. Broken Vessel, failed imitation of a bug, can’t even leave their deathbed. She was right about everything. Hearing it from someone else is a special breed of degrading.

The Vessel holds back their tears, hoping that even if one escapes, it’ll be taken as a reaction to their physical pain. Oro’s words confuse them, when they’re accompanied by such gentle care. The Vessel has no recollection of being treated this way by another. They hadn’t known what they were missing. When he places a bandage on their knee, their heart races. It practically explodes out of their chest when he cups their face to inspect the fresh bandages on their head.

“It seems stable,” Oro says. His hands are wide enough to cover their face if he so wished, and the Vessel wants to touch them. They can’t quite muster up the courage in time, and Oro moves his hands away. They feel his absence even in places he hasn’t touched. “Rest here, and then be on your way. I don’t like keeping company for long. I’ll fetch you your cloak.”

It does not occur to the Vessel that they could request to stay. They practically snatch their cloak from Oro and fasten it around their shoulders, without so much as a thank you or a second glance. Oro grunts with displeasure and goes back to sit next to the flower, leaving the Vessel to their own devices. Even when seated, he still towers over them. They turn away before he can see their cheeks inflamed.

Their cloak is soft, clean, and more comfortable than they remembered. The Vessel buries their face in the fabric and inhales. Its warm, sweet fragrance lulls them into such calm that they’re still hugging themselves when they fall back onto the pillow. Motes of light dance above them, but all they can look at is Oro. They put their hands to their chest, trying to still their pounding heart. Their stomach feels full of lumaflies. Perhaps once, when they were very small, they were treated with such kindness. Then they would have something to compare this feeling to.

The Vessel wiggles beneath the blanket and continues to watch, enraptured, until Oro comes over and kneels at their side. The two stare at each other, the Vessel with longing in their eyes. Then Oro pulls the blanket over their face, and returns to his spot.

Perhaps they were too forward. The Vessel rolls onto their side, facing away from him, and burns with embarrassment. They’re fairly inexpressive, or so they think. Were they making some sort of face?

They cross over into a mostly dreamless sleep, interrupted by bright flashes: remnants of their previous illness. They awaken from these spells flailing and frightened, but are calmed when they remember where they are. For the time being, they’re safe—though it worries them that they’ll have to leave soon, now that they’ve awoken well-rested.

Their nail is right where they left it, but Oro is gone. Night has fallen, and ash is gathering beneath the skylight. The Vessel puts two and two together, and pulls on a rope leading up to the ceiling. The window shuts with nary a creak.

There’s still the matter of Oro’s absence. A curtain hangs over a door in the back of the room, but it only leads to an unoccupied kitchen and washroom. The water dripping from the kitchen faucet sounds too far away to be a nuisance. On the counter is a dish of fruit that the Vessel, predictably, doesn’t recognize. They’ve survived on whatever they could forage from the wild, and they’ve yet to come across any of these.

Anyway. They wonder if Oro went outside, since he’s nowhere to be seen inside. As much as they loathe to, they leave the safety of the house and into the night. There’s a total absence of wind, and no sign of the predatory bugs that are so numerous in the ravine. The Vessel strains to listen for anything at all. They pick up the shifting of fabric and uneven breathing, noises familiar to the Vessel even in all their inexperience.

They steal away behind one of the frames supporting the hut, and watch as Oro jerks himself off. He wraps his hand around his cock at the base and strokes upwards, slow, then fast, then slow again. He rubs his thumb around the head and fondles his balls with his other hand, head back and eyes closed in bliss. The Vessel follows his movements, growing hot in more places than just their face. They slide their hand between their legs, finding first the slit tucked into their groin.

Breathing heavily, the Vessel teases their clit until it grows into a cock just large enough to fit into their palm. Sensitive as they are, they rub themselves gently while keeping a hand over their mouth. In the back of their mind, they hear Her, or maybe just their own inner voice, berating them for taking pleasure in this. For once this is easy to ignore. They can’t help themselves.

In their state of euphoria, they are careless. They poke out of their hiding space to get a better look, and Oro sees them. He curses, loudly, and tugs his cloak over his lap. This outburst frightens the Vessel. They’ve just started to flee, however, when Oro calls for them.

“I’ve already seen you. Come here.”

The Vessel hangs their head and walks back to him. He stands, still holding his cloak around himself. The two stand before each other, each hiding their own arousal but sensing it in the other. Despite the humiliation, the Vessel remains hard, and their cloak is not thick enough to hide the bulge. Oro leans against the wall and drags his hands down his face.

“I’ve already told you: I prefer being alone.”

But he went through the trouble of saving them. He can’t be that bad.

“If you were on your way out, then leave,” Oro demands. The Vessel shakes their head. “No? Then what were you doing awake?”

They point to him. If they had the words, they’d tell him they felt better in his presence. He clearly doesn’t appreciate theirs, but if they part, they’ll be all alone again. Nothing to distract from Her echoes, or from having to confront this lonely land. They only know his name, but their fear of such a separation is immense. In a display of desperation, they fall to their bruised knees and take the hem of his cloak. Having never been allowed the luxury of pride or dignity, they don’t know why they _shouldn’t_.

Oro looks to the side, face half-hidden in the ruff of his cape. He starts to speak, but the words catch in his throat. The Vessel, anticipating rejection, lowers their gaze to the ground. Their head snaps back up when he says, “That’s enough. On your feet.”

Oro doesn’t give them a chance to stand up on their own; he takes them by the scruff of their cloak and lifts them up himself. “There’s no point of me being out here now that you’ve found me, and this is no place to hold such conversation. We’re going back inside.”

In front of the warmth and safety of the hearth, Oro builds a nest: soft pelts, blankets, and pillows that the Vessel could spend the rest of their life in. They obediently sit before Oro with their blanket around their shoulders, trying not to squirm as he cups their chin. Having learned of their intention to stay, he has become more agreeable towards them.

“If you wish to prolong your sojourn, dare I say into a less temporary arrangement, then I know what you may do as payment.” He has once again undone his pants, revealing his erect cock. The Vessel takes one look at it and swallows. They’re too desperate to think of anything else but satisfying their most carnal desires. Oro starts to ask if they’d accept this, but the Vessel is already pouncing onto his lap. They thought they had lost all that strength gifted by Her.

Oro puts an arm around the Vessel, and in lieu of kissing them, digs a finger into their mouth. He feels around, tracing their fangs and pressing against their tongue until drool is running down their chin. Their cock stands on end, dwarfed by Oro’s massive length. They rut against it, but Oro holds them still.

“Use your mouth first,” he suggests, opening his legs. They both know that there’s no way he’ll fit into their little mouth. They can only fit the tip before they start gagging, and Oro has to guide their head away before they force themselves any further. The Vessel settles for using their tongue, covering every inch in quick, loving licks that start from his balls and all the way up to the tip. They tongue the slit on the head of his cock, eagerly lapping up his precum.

They pay just as much attention to his balls, groping and suckling at them until Oro is melting. He no longer seems the imposing figure that was their first impression of him, when he’s trying to hold back his moans. This only encourages the Vessel to work harder, using their hands and mouth both to provoke a reaction from him. They’re smaller by a great amount, enough to straddle his balls comfortably while stroking his cock and sucking the tip. In this position, they’re able to frot against him at the same time. Their slit soon begins to throb from excitement.

Oro, in the meantime, is twitching on the blankets, no longer able to suppress his moans. His powerful form heaves with each breath, yet he remains completely under the Vessel’s control. He cums with a loud cry, spilling his seed over their face and into their open mouth. All the while, his cock throbs powerfully in their arms, forcing them to let go and fall to their knees.

Their cock twitches and leaks precum, and with a cum-soaked hand, they begin to furiously masturbate. Little huffs and whines escape them, growing in volume as they near orgasm. Oro sits up in time to see them cum on themselves. They loll forward into Oro’s arms, panting and covered in both their semen.

“...Agh, your bandages,” Oro says with a _tsk_. His breathing is heavy and his body is warm; they feel safety previously unknown to them while cradled in his arms. They’re in a daze and no less eager when Oro takes them back to the washroom to clean them off.

“Are you not already exhausted?” he asks when they try to rut against his leg. “You’re like an aspid in heat.”

He puts a hand around their waist to hold them down, while he dabs antiseptic onto their wounds. It stings, but does nothing to quell their excitement. They’re a difficult patient as ever, and Oro eventually sighs as if indulging a raucous and demanding grub.

“Your carnal appetites far exceed what I expected,” he says, laying them across his lap. They spread their legs eagerly, rocking their hips up to Oro’s touch. His fingers are all over them: in their mouth, rubbing their cock, burrowing into their slick cunt. They undulate and moan freely, giving themselves over to pleasure and lust the likes of which they have never experienced. They can’t get enough of it. It’s enough for their Shade to strain against their shell, causing Void to leak from their eyes.

Their vision is engulfed by the white of Oro’s own shell, as he drags his tongue along the tear tracks on their cheeks. They can’t tell where one orgasm ends and the other begins. All they know is the pulsing of their walls and twitching of their cock against his fingers, and his hot tongue probing into their mouth. Grasping the sides of his face, they shove their own tongue against him with a muffled whine. Please, please, please. They want to be spoiled more.

The size of Oro’s cock forbids him from cumming inside of them, at least in their current state, but the Vessel is nonetheless left satisfied from his fingers stirring around inside of them. They return to their senses bleary-eyed, cheek pressed into a pillow and Oro’s hand on their back. Without their excitement to sustain them, the pains of their body are all the more intense.

Oro is watching them with a strangely soft look in his eyes, so different from how he had treated them before they were intimate. He makes to roll on his other side when he catches them looking, but they catch his hand and hold it to their chest. Nothing needs said save for their heartbeat, pounding with their newfound adoration for him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry! No porn in this chapter u_u I can't imagine the Lost Kin being DTF after eating themselves stuffed, lol. Anyway I'm glad I got this fic out of my system

For the first time since he settled down in Hallownest, Oro awakens with someone else in his bed. Having slept so soundly, he almost forgot what he had done last night and was therefore confused by the presence of the petite bug curled up next to him. They, still asleep, are still and undisturbed, despite the obvious pain they must be in. When changing their bandages, he had seen injuries on them so severe that they shouldn’t have been out on their own in the first place.

He wouldn’t have been concerned at all, had it not been for their tryst and how obviously desperate they were. Oro has no idea what they’ve been through, for them to fling themselves into the arms of a stranger like that. He had the chance to turn them down, and now sits regretting that moment of passion. They were _far_ too adorable, and so eager to please him that he just had to have them. And now what will he do? He doesn’t even know their name.

The bug, currently nameless, stretches their arms and yawns. Even this small of a movement makes them flinch. They rub one of their wrists, wincing, and only then notice that Oro is watching them. In spite of their condition, they’ve already got a strong erection beneath their cloak. Oro can’t help but wonder if last night’s activities exacerbated their wounds any, but then they’re climbing onto his lap and he feels his cock harden.

“Are you not in pain? You have a crack on your shell.” Oro gently restrains them in an embrace, amazed by how soft their carapace is. With them being as small as they are, it’s a wonder they haven’t died yet. They must be hardier than he thought. Even so, he can’t help the protective instinct welling up inside of him—the one that tells him he needs to find a safe place for him and his mate. They’ve only just met, too. This bug is doing strange things to him, or maybe he’s lonelier than he thought. Before Hallownest, there had been plenty of bugs to fool around with.

“Are you listening to me? Your head is cracked,” Oro says, tapping their forehead gently. The bug flinches in response, and without thinking, he soothes their sore spot with a kiss. Their porcelain shell flushes red and hot, and Oro tucks them back into the blankets.

“Stay there,” he orders, and they do so reluctantly. He sees little point in spending all morning in bed, when he has a strict routine to attend to. Staying idle in isolation causes all sorts of ill effects, both in body and mind. Today he would be going out to hunt for food and to scavenge among the bugs who had fallen from the Colosseum. The moment he reaches the store, however, he feels a tug on his cloak.

This strange, pale bug is strong-willed, if nothing else. Oro says nothing and lets them stay there until their legs begin to wobble. They sit at the small table, in Oro’s chair, kicking their legs and watching him cook eggs and sausage. Vegetables and maybe even a few pieces of fruit would be welcome in Oro’s cupboard, and he considers trekking west to Greenpath. There remains the problem of what to do with his visitor; he feels uncomfortable leaving them alone in his hut, but can only see disaster if he takes them with him.

Having only one chair, Oro resorts to sitting with the bug on his lap while they eat. They surprise him with their appetite, demolishing everything on their plate within minutes and then gesturing for seconds. They devour half a loaf of Oro’s bread before he can even slice it. When a glass isn’t enough for them, they drink straight from the jug, slopping water down their front. They eat as though they’ve never touched food in their life, afterwards collapsing dramatically in Oro’s arms with their arms around their belly and a pained groan.

Oro is sure that even if he scolds them on their table manners, they won’t listen. At least they’ve exhausted themselves. That being said, what will they do when they wake up, and he’s not there? It’s far too easy to imagine them tearing up the house in search of him, or even going outside to look for him. He may be aloof, and overly critical at times, but it’s not like he _wants_ them to be in distress. Then they shove their face into his chest with a pleased little noise, and he decides that he’ll stay home after all.


End file.
